


Demons

by Tynni



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, Historical, OCC...but not...in my head, Songfic, accuracy questionable, possible feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-03-18
Packaged: 2017-12-05 17:16:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/725819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tynni/pseuds/Tynni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"We were built on this…</i>
</p><p> <br/><i>….and on this we fall."</i></p><p> </p><p>Song!fic. Prussia recalls his downfall. 'Demons' by Imagine Dragons. Put a higher rating due to religious mentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demons

_1933 A.D_

I felt it like a bullet to the heart. The lies. The venom. The catastrophic day in March. No longer was a blade needed to wound me. Once a lad imbedded in faith, I grew quickly by sword and verse. Nations quickly bowed and offered while other begged and pleaded. I built states and devastated them just as soon as my eyes opened. I fought General Winter tooth and nail. With my men beside me, I froze while my blood simmered, waiting for the chance for God and Country, for me. However, in this day and age, the swipe of a pen signed off my future with an overelaborate autograph. Ugly black scratches as they were to me. They told of downfall, failure, and greed. I could do nothing. After all, I’m nothing. An apparition. Drifting along with the quirks of my people. Yes. Regardless of what they did to me, disfigured me, ostracized me, they were mine. I would fight. I would die. For my people.

His name is printed in every history book, known by every mouth, immortalized in portraits, but I shall never mention him by title. He has no place in my silent heart. That man tried to use honeyed lyrics on me. Draping his hands around my soul, trying to pull it from my body. Fragmented, torn, and dwindling, I still denied. Take what my people offered, in their fleeting absurdity. That’s fine. That is their choice, and I can never disdain my own. Boundaries could be redrawn. Agreements could be invalidated. Structures refurbished. However, I never offered anything and swore I never would. I was a nation and they would _not_ take that from me.

 I have never saluted that narcissistic gesture. Since that day, my hands have fallen silently to my flanks. Since that day, I apologized daily to empty air. Since that day, I became a façade.

 

That day I lost every bit of light from my bloodied eyes...

 

* * *

 

_When the days are cold_

_And the cards all fold_

_And the saints we see_

_Are all made of gold_

_When your dreams all fail_

_And the ones we hail_

_Are the worst of all_

_And the blood's run stale…_

* * *

 

_He was my brother. He is my brother._

And he is like me.

I raised him as best I could. There is no doubt of my character. Despite my own beginnings, I have sinned. That is what I am here for. I release my people from the burdens of the darkest sins. It’s in my name, thus, not their fault. I am okay with that. It gives me purpose. The effects have reflected. I am twisted from my religious start. _Arrogant. Foolhardy._ _Flippant._ I know these things, but one must find the best way to keep their sanity. Mine may be insalubrious but it is me. My brother accepts that. He always has. Changing oneself is hard after centuries of the same actions, over and over. I tried. I vow to myself daily that _I tried_. Did I force him to inadvertently grow to fast? I can’t change the past, I’ve learned that many times over. But now I am forced to recollect on my undertakings. Was I liable enough? Even with my years, he would often be mistaken as the elder, as the established one. Even as a kid, I often heard he was mature for his age. Did he enjoy his childhood? Was I a good figure? Does he have pleasant memories of those times? I want to ask. Oh how I want to ask. I want to see his face light up with joy as he explains his best memories, fall into disenchantment as he considers my shortcomings. But I can’t. I selfishly don’t want to know the answer.

Now I am forced to watch from the side lines as he is rent and hollowed. He didn’t want this. No one did. Like me, papers are signed and hands are clasp. Speeches are made. Mobs are rallied. All under that one banner that festered within the innards of his land. I have lived this life long enough to retreat within myself. Become secluded. But he has not. I see how it hurts him. That man, not even born within his borders, not one of his own. Controlling, breeding, and sacrificing. My hands can only reach so far. I try to hold him close, shelter him from the ruin, but what can I do? Where can we go? There are some things that just can’t be fixed, can’t be healed. I almost want to smile as I think of it. I was once alone, bearing this with an arrogant attitude. Now I stood with my eyes dead to the world, leaking my stockpiled feelings upon the shoulders of someone who warranted the comfort.

Through it all, I did what I could. I wouldn’t allow him to fail as these people followed the lure of stupidity. We were nothing more than banners that fluttering in the wind. We dance and taunt, giving the enemy a collective target, something to blame. One person is far too small to receive the full punishment they have reserved for the atrocities. And deep within our heart, we relish in it. Enjoying the eyes set only on us. Our colors the only wash against a bleak sky. This morbid attention sends a sadistic chill down your spine as the marches are called and the shots ring out….for you.

We were built on this…

 

….and on this we fall.

* * *

 

_I want to hide the truth_

_I want to shelter you_

_But with the beast inside_

_There's nowhere we can hide_

_No matter what we breed_

_We still are made of greed_

_This is my kingdom come_

_This is my kingdom come_

* * *

_Defeat_

There was no one left to blame. There were those who wished to rebuild, put the past behind them, and forgive. Young ambition. There were those who did not. This would never happen again, they were certain, they wanted to cripple, slowly cut down to nothingness. Old blood. Somehow, both won out. More monograms. Signing off lands that most had never even seen. Letting ink ruin families, repress cultures, and dole malice. Mere scribbles.

And I would never again be me.

I broke. Never, in my life, could I recount a moment where I felt this sense of despair. My jaw was set as I was captive in lands that I knew. Places I traveled long before they came into being. My fingers ran over the bricks, touching the familiar stone. Yet, it was unexpected, foreign. What was once the life of me, now was nothing more than cold blocks mined somewhere on this land that no longer called my name. Still, regardless of my will, there was nothing I could do against my nature. I wanted to rebel, to fight, for me. But there was no _me_ anymore. These weren’t my people anymore. Maybe on paper, with a changed name, but not really. There was no one left to appeal. I finally smiled, my eyes numb to the light. This was my kingdom now. Nothingness. A sweet, weightless domain that held no bounds, to earth or person.

It was here in this self-induced senselessness that I met him. Whatever networks he used, he flitted across that steal and rock as if it weren’t there. But it was and he knew it. His eyes reflected everything. Pity. Resentment. A need. I watched often, as he melted the stone with his glare alone. Repeatedly I wished I still had that power. To make kings bow before me with a glance. However, I would be required to withdrawal back as the world crashed around me. Outside of myself was an agony greater than I.

When he finally spoke to me, I remember that day clearly. There was a gentle note in his voice, but by now I knew better. I allowed myself to delve far enough into my memories to see those gory days. He too had stood, flapping in the wind against the sky, facing us without fear. With men of his own, he pushed and fought with savagery, instilling a fear greater than any other nation. He was like me. No. He wasn’t like me. Those feet of his were still able to tread upon lands of his own, not forced to discard them due to penmanship. He was young, but there was something older about him. Far older than others credited him for. I knew it and he knew I knew. Something about him struck me, threatened to pull me from my isolation. I couldn’t allow it, I fought it. Yet, every single time I was forced to meet those violet eyes, a spark of radiance was thrust into my own.

Was that something I deserved?

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

_When you feel my heat_

_Look into my eyes_

_It's where my demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

_Don't get too close_

_It's dark inside_

_It's where my demons hide_

_It's where my demons hide_

* * *

_It was more than Iron. It was made of steel, concrete, spray paint, and tears._

It was over. It had taken far too long and far too many lives. People were killed not for war, but for wanting their mothers, fathers, and children. Every gunshot forced me deeper into myself. So now, who was I? There was naught. People picked apart the only border I had left with pleasure. I couldn’t hate them for it. Every chip, each brick taken as a memento, I felt a chill run through me. Yet, for once I felt as though those ball-points had finally done something worthwhile. So I watched. I recognized some. It hadn’t been so long that all of them had passed with time. Children I had seen born now scraped with wrinkled hands. Once, they had been mine, now my brothers. I was pleased. He was suited for a world like this. They would be taken care of after this hardship. I had been a nation who twisted his doctrine, using war as a hallowed buffer. That had no place in this advanced world. It was only a matter of time, I suppose.

The feeling was weightless. There was nothing to keep me tied here. I was superfluous. Something that the world created, then finally seeing the mistake, decided to erase to redraw a better fabrication. I could do nothing but watch as a retribution was dealt. Somehow, I figured this was what was expected. The only reason so many martyrs were produced. They all knew what was to be. My thoughts went towards that extraordinary one. The one who came. Did he know as well? It was rhetorical of course. There was no way he didn’t. That was where the sympathy came from.  He knew. While he spoke simple words of the warm climate, he was composing a wretched sonnet as a memorial. That thought hurt me further than any pickax could. Slowly the disguise was waning. My mind couldn’t keep my core hidden any longer. Memories crawled out, causing my body to writhe amongst the cheers and cries. The first memory hit me the hardest. It was my own words, my own regret.

_They still managed to take away my nation._

 

* * *

 

_When the curtain's call_

_Is the last of all_

_When the lights fade out_

_All the sinners crawl_

_So they dug your grave_

_And the masquerade_

_Will come calling out_

_At the mess you made_

* * *

_Regret waits until all chance of recovery is gone._

My mind was a series of images, organizing and dislocating. Running through all my pasts, my futures, what will never be. My empire, I dreamed of on many sleepless nights. Scenarios flowered about my head as I remembered being a child, a boy, nothing more than a pinprick on the best of maps. Following my banner where ever it was needed. Then settling, pulling lands into me, growing. The power made me invincible in my own mind. Then I met him. He, who encouraged me, who nurtured my own hallucinations and gave me new ones. If anyone could be considered a father to me, it would be him. Yet, as all humans, his life was nothing more than a moment to me.  That moment, would be ingrained in me forever. I wouldn’t allow him to fade, thus I continued. I pressed on his designation, the name of his posterities and kin. Only for him.

Until I found my brother. For with him, I had someone that stayed with me no matter the years. Even at the time of my demise, I wouldn’t bring myself to find him and ask the questions that tumbled around my heart, aching to be answered. Maybe I knew the answer already. In the way he gently comforted me when the hurt had gotten to great even though I knew he himself was suffering. The way he brushed off my antics with nothing more than a few familial gestures and words, while others angered him quickly. Did I ever tell him? To watch his back and keep his morals? To hold that and those he deems precious close and let them know? That he was my anchor, my holy ground in a world that I had long reasoned wrong? No. I don’t think I ever did.

How vain.

 

* * *

 

_Don't want to let you down_

_But I am hell bound_

_Though this is all for you_

_Don't want to hide the truth_

_No matter what we breed_

_We still are made of greed_

_This is my kingdom come_

_This is my kingdom come_

* * *

 

He was there. In my last moments, viewed my sanity one last time. There was concern. There was grief. There was the worn expression of someone who had seen the world and now wanted to see it burn. All the nasties in this world. All the evils. Light it up on a Midsummers Eve and dance pagan steps as they screamed.  My clouded mind grew naïve because I almost believed he could. I knew such a thing was unmanageable. There would always be _something_. Yet here stood my one hope that maybe things would get better. The wars would cease, even for a moment. So I stared into those eyes, picking apart all the emotions that told of my fate.

And beyond that, there was hope.

His mouth worked fast. Words flowed like honey. They were sweet on the tongue, but hard to swallow, filled with a past of nonsense. From a single flower, an idea, came to basis for this treat. However, this was collected by bees, the opposition, who could inflict harm on anyone who dared come near their established home, their society. After time, work, and expenditure it produced a delicious sample that this nation managed to collect unscathed and now shared with me, ruthlessly. My body ached. My senses non-existent, but still, I forced my ears to continue listening. The words I wanted to hear. The words I dreaded and feared. There was no need for paper, no need for that terrible black that I had grown to dread. It just needed a word, a nod, and gesture of approval. I was indorsed to dictate my own destiny.

 

....and there was light once more in my scarlet eyes

 

* * *

 

_They say it's what you make_

_I say it's up to fate_

_It's woven in my soul_

_I need to let you go_

_Your eyes, they shine so bright_

_I want to save their light_

_I can't escape this now_

_Unless you show me how…._

* * *

 

“I give you New Prussia as your anchor, your light…..forever”

**Author's Note:**

> I reallly need to stop drunk!writing. I can't....
> 
> I heard this song when I was being driven home from a party...and I had to...or I couldn't sleep.
> 
> March 1933: The Nazi Party began soliciting hard in Prussia.
> 
> I'm not a history buff....at all....of any sort. And many of these things are headcanon.
> 
> I don't own Hetalia or the song Demons by Imagine Dragons


End file.
